


Strange News from Another Star

by bigraine



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dream Bubbles (Homestuck), Gen, Light Body Horror Elements, Other, Post-Sburb/Sgrub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27004705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigraine/pseuds/bigraine
Summary: am ii dead?You squint up at the sky, lips rolling up over your fangs in a grimace against the natural urge to skitter under a dark rock. In your search for life, you manage to make out a few pinpoints of yellow light in the sky -- almost imperceptible at first, but they become more distinct as they appear to grow. You sit back on your heels as you watch them for a while, but just when you realize the lights have begun tomultiplyis when you take notice of the giant fluffy white clouds rolling in from what was a previously completely clear sky, and then you finally understand what’s going on.You’re not dead; you’re asleep._2020 submission forIInternet Hate Machiine, A Sollux Captor Zine.
Kudos: 8





	Strange News from Another Star

The world is burning red. The scent of hot tarmac is claustrophobic and undeterred in what little there is of the late bright season’s breeze. You feel nothing more than a dull, almost rosy warmth on your skin despite the sun’s rays beating heavily down on your slowly-rousing corpse.

Wait a minute. The sun? 

Despite your extra-large double-wrinkled genius troll brain screaming at you to keep them shut, your eyes instinctively snap open. Luckily your ganderbulbs don’t instantly shrivel up like raisins in your sockets, but fuck is it bright - you have to shade your eyes with a hand as you slowly push yourself up from where you were lying flat on your back. You squint as you try to gain awareness of your surroundings, everything shades of violent red and searing white. 

It takes a while for your vision to adjust. You find yourself placed on a towering high-rise amid a sea of buildings exactly like it -- not unlike where you grew up, but faded like an old photograph, boxy and uncomplex buildings without much personality. There are no greys or yellows or coppers, no hive complexes, no occasional silhouette of an imperial drone flying overhead or lusus roaming the streets below. In fact, when you pull yourself up to your feet in order to peek over the edge of the roof, it’s so hazy beyond a certain point that you _can’t_ see the ground from here. Even then, it’s eerily quiet....You have a sinking gut feeling that there _isn’t_ any ground below for there to be commerce.

_ am ii dead? _

You squint up at the sky, lips rolling up over your fangs in a grimace against the natural urge to skitter under a dark rock. In your search for life, you manage to make out a few pinpoints of yellow light in the sky -- almost imperceptible at first, but they become more distinct as they appear to grow. You sit back on your heels as you watch them for a while, but just when you realize the lights have begun to _multiply_ is when you take notice of the giant fluffy white clouds rolling in from what was a previously completely clear sky, and then you finally understand what’s going on.

You’re not dead; you’re asleep.

With a small pang of disappointment at your tentatively mortal status, you let yourself be swept into the next dream bubble.

\--

You spend some time laying in a big field for a while, getting grazed on by bleatbeasts and other such deathstock with little resistance. You don’t come into contact with a single soul; living, semi-living, or dead. After that you find yourself then kickin’ back by Alternia’s deceptively calm oceanfront, and you patiently wait for the next approaching memory; it seems to feature some kind of jungle from what you can make out of the foggy images, the calls of various beasts echoing in the distance. Eugh. You hate the outdoors.

You lounge in the sand as you await for the next change in scenery, but something doesn’t...seem quite right about this one. Something about the way that some of the clouds roll in at a different angle from others has you perplexed, but it’s not until far too late that you realize that there are not just two, but _three_ memories about to pass through the same point -- and you just so happen to be in the perfect spot to greet them.

This is probably fine, right?

All three bubbles slide into one another slowly, and then all at once; a sort of colorful greyspace is created around you from the conflicting images, ghosts of memories dancing around each other both in tandem and in opposition, and you can only take in the truly bizarre sight for but a moment before the colliding semi-realities miscalculate and all deny responsibility for taking your mortal body with them. The ground beneath your feet dissolves, and then you’re free-falling.

The world is **black** as you drop into void.

\--

Of course this would happen only to you.

You fall for who knows how long, never slowing, never picking up speed. You kind of drift aimlessly through space, long enough to not really remember which direction exactly it is that you’re falling -- there isn’t really an “up” or “left” in antispace. Hopelessly you try using your psionics to push you in a direction, any direction, but you already know from the get-go that it won’t change much of anything. You simply continue moving at the same frustrating, constant pace with not even so much as the brush of wind through your hair to tell you where you’re going.

Hours. Eons. Maybe a few minutes pass by. You see nothing. It’s nothing like being blind was. The pressing emptiness is everywhere and nowhere; weightlessness. Complete vacuum. At least when you lost your eyesight, you still had gravity.

The panic has long set in before anything changes, and at that point you’re too freaked out to notice -- there’s a change in the atmosphere, almost like a pressure, and then a gradual and swift acceleration _down._

Your little crash landing into the bubble is jarring, and not only because you just about break your dreamself’s ankle trying to stick the landing. Complete deprivation to sensory overload hits you hard, the presence of weight and light and force catching you off guard so you have only seconds to catch yourself with your psionics before you hit the ground and turn into a mutant pancake. 

As it is, you still find yourself face down with a mouthful of sand. You unpeal yourself from the ground with a groan, blinking sand out of your eyes and spitting off to the side. You find your glasses a few feet away, bent at a 90-degree angle and lenses cracked. You sit up on your knees, carefully attempting to bend them back into place with the assistance of your psi until they snap clean in half.

You stare at the pieces in your hand. For just the briefest moment, you consider pulling an Eridan and going postal on the next three people you happen to see, but decide quickly that that is an extreme overreaction and would probably just make your day a lot worse rather than better. 

Pocketing the glasses, you sit back on your feet, shaking more sand out your hair as you look up. 

The night is cool in the vast expanse of desert beneath Alternia’s night sky, it’s moons casting magenta and lime light across the rolling dunes. The sand goes on uninterrupted into the horizon all but for one large object breaking the skyline in the distance. Not far off is what appears to be a towering, misshapen structure sticking out awkwardly from the sand, faded red metal and a rusted hole ripped into its side from where a soft, flickering light emanates. 

You consider waiting where you are. Given the amount of time you just spent in the void and the new aches and pains you’ve acquired, you’re not really keen to get up and moving just yet -- not to mention that you have entirely _no_ clue where you are, and you have spent a quantifiable _fuckton_ of time in your youth traversing these goddamn bubbles. If _you_ don’t recognize this part of the desert at this point, you’re not entirely sure if this is someone’s memory you should go fucking around with.

You pull yourself up with a slight wobble as the breeze picks up, carrying with it a few dust devils that spray you with more sand. You cover your face and grit your teeth -- but your double ears perk when you catch on to the electric charge on the wind, humming in the ground deep beneath your feet. Despite having to cover your mouth, you still catch a whiff of ozone drifting from the metal structure.

Oh, now _that’s_ interesting.

You float over the sand to the metal structure and pause in the crude doorway, poking your head in cautiously lest something decide to bite it off -- but all you see is a long, winding tunnel from which that blue glow continues deeper down. 

**Options:**   
~~== > **Stay on the surface. It may be hella dusty out here, but you will be able to watch for any more passing bubbles, or at the very least wait this out until you wake again.**~~   
==> **Be a nosy son of a bitch and gatecrash into this spooky (possibly haunted, definitely dangerous) underground tunnel system for the lulz.**

You shrug, figuring you have nothing better to do, and shimmy your gangly self into the mysterious edifice.

The world is cool and blue as you enter the chamber, unlike the memory of heat that clings to the sand outside. The end of the hallway that seems to lead towards the source of light slopes down at a drastic angle, precarious and dusty. You take extra precautions not to knock your horns into loose hanging panels or brush up against any stray wiring. Some parts of the hallway have collapsed, and you have to squeeze past a few fallen vent systems until you come upon a door hanging off one hinge and partially obstructing the light within.

You push the door aside cautiously with your powers. An ominous creak echoes much farther than you would have guessed given from the size of this place’s exterior. You float through, testing the grated platform with the toe of one sneaker before putting your full weight on it, worried for a moment that you’re going to fall through as it squeaks in protest but ultimately keeps steady...and then find yourself rendered speechless at the sheer magnitude of the space you’ve stepped into; an expansive network of catwalks that go on for what feels like miles spiderwebs beneath and beyond in what seems to be the cavernous inner hull of an imperial spaceship, centered around a giant tube-like structure pouring out the eery light; a thinner pillar juts out from the middle of it and disappears into the darkness above. It’s something straight out of your dreams; your nightmares. Tattered banners of Her Imperial Condescension’s trident are visible in several places along the hull’s walls if you squint into the distance, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

You take a careful step over to the platform’s edge, peeking over. Now that your feet are on the ground, you can feel that same hum of power from before reverberating up through the metal and into your bones, a deep vibration that rocks you to the core. From this high, you can get a good look at the light source, which you quickly recognize from schoolfeeding as the spaceship’s reactor; it’s absolutely gigantic, taking up a majority of the lower half of the inner hull and dripping with thick industrial biowires that crawl up from the bottom of the ship, dried-out and dead-looking as if the reactor had been plopped down atop Gl'bgolyb itself. The state of the tentacles intrigues you as much as it terrifies you; it’s clear that the reactor is in some kind of ‘hibernation’ mode from the way the light oscillates. Your stomach twists into knots at the thought that this apparently abandoned ship could still be functional, even after how many millennia have passed here in this memory...Could such a thing even be possible to power? _Is_ the reactor still running? In order for the reactor to still be running, even in sleep mode...there would have to be a psionic still down there, powering it.

You gulp. That couldn’t be, right?

Your fists clench and unclench a few times before you take a step and drop off the ledge.

You descend slowly into the mouth of the reactor, jaw clenched as you get within a close enough distance of the inner pillar; biowires snake all the way up the damned thing like malignant worms, shriveled and browned with age. A musty smell hits you, like unearthing an artifact that had been water-damaged centuries ago. You continue on with your descent at a steady pace, but ever watchful and hesitant as you let yourself be engulfed by…

Monitor light.

Dozens - no, _hundreds_ of blue screens line the interior walls of the reactor; some small, some large, some cracked and glitching with static; some are completely eclipsed by the overgrown bioware that had crawled over them. They glow in tandem, fading from an intense, vibrant blue to a soft, dark screen. Your hairs stand on end as you inspect them from a distance; you can taste the static on your tongue here. The scent of ozone has you struggling to breathe.

As you near the floor of the reactor, the inner pillar’s base widens as well, a dark mass of entwining tentacles not quite as wilted as those farther above. You freeze in mid-air. 

Connecting the base of the tentacles and the pillar, right in the spot where the two taper, is a thin body of a troll, head hanging limp. Arms strung up above them bend awkwardly to support their weight, hair long and covering their face, but the dual-set of long tapered horns jutting from their scalp has ice shooting through your veins.

Those are your horns.

Your shakily descend past them, dual-chromatic eyes trained on the troll as you land - the second your foot touches the ground, the entire world is cast in red.

You twist around, scanning all of the screens in a panic as your ears flatten against the sides of your head; they’ve stop pulsating and now cast an alarming ambiance over the entire reactor as a disembodied voice, something not quite organic anymore but now an amalgamation of robotic whirring struggling to form coherent words begins to recite the code that you see loading across the monitors.

**01010100 01101000 01001001 01001001 01110011 00100000 01001001 01001001 01110011 00100000 01100001 01101110 00100000 01110101 01101110 01100001 01110101 01110100 01101000 01101111 01110010 01001001 01001001 01111010 01100101 01100100 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 01100001 00101100 00100000 01110111 01110010 01001001 01001001 01100111 01100111 01101100 01100101 01110010 00101110 **

[ThIIs IIs an unauthorIIzed area, wrIIggler.]

There’s a crackling noise, and you look up to see the troll’s head lifting achingly to look up at you. 

Your bloodpusher drops into your stomach as you face your ancestor for the first time. 

_ Art by @teenyarts on Twitter _

His face is gaunt, thin, a ghost of your own if you were several sweeps older and buried in the ground for who knows how many millennia. Frizzy strands of hair hide many of his features, but the long nose, the fanged overbite, and especially the unmistakable red and blue eyes make him out to be a haunting mirror image of yourself. They bore directly into your soul as he speaks, face remaining completely still.

** 01010011 01110000 01100101 01100001 01101011 00101100 00100000 01110011 01101101 01100001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01101111 01101110 01100101 00101110  **

[Speak, small one.]

You open your mouth, but words fail to come to you. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Your voice sounds so small and localised in comparison. “You’re…” You swallow. “You’re the Ψiioniic.”

The string of zeros and ones disappears for a long moment, before reappearing to read:

[The troll known as the ΨIIonIIc dIIed long ago. IIf a troll IIs what you seek, you have come two the wrong place.]

You try not to gape up at him, closing your mouth with a little _click_ of your teeth and eyes as wide as saucers. Your voice has a quiet tremble to it. “How long have you been down here? Alone.”

[Ha Ha. Far beyond your sweeps, young one.]

The laughter is disturbingly mechanical and cold. 

“What...happened?” You’re hesitant to ask. “This ship...it crashed, didn’t it? If these are the bubbles, then why are you still…” You gesture at the mass of bioware. _“Here?”_

[MachIInes do not dream of electrIIc bleatbeasts, Sollux.]

You’re about to argue that that doesn’t answer your question, but you shut right the hell up when you realize he _knows your name._

“How…What the fuck?” You stammer, taking a step back. “What the hell is going on here? How do you know -”

[Your electronIIc sIIgnature IIs IIncredIIbly easy to trace - ] The line of code pauses, deletes and revises itself. [- At least for a supercomputer. You are remarkably untouchable otherwIIse, though II wouldn’t let an IInflated ego get to you, lest you end up here.]

Those words ring in your ears, even as he continues. [II know everythIIng about you already, young troll. No need to be surprIIsed. After all, thIIs rotten heap was just lIIke you, once.]

Before the nausea can really hit you over that statement, you suddenly feel the floor leave from under you - but instead of falling, you’re floating up _,_ as if gravity has suddenly lifted. The red gradually fades to purple, then to blue, and then cycles back at a slow pace as you rise unexpectedly to come eye level with the troll. Even for as thin as he is, he’s huge - god knows how tall he would be if he weren’t strung up in the helm. The slight twitch in his eyelids tells you that he’s watching you closely, and it makes you feel completely exposed.

_ Art by @hellmsman on IG  _

[You’re so young.] A long pause. [Why dIId you come down here, Sollux?]

You’re confused by the question. “I...I don’t know. I was lost.”

[What IIs IIt that you thIInk you’re tryIIng to fIInd?]

“My way home?” It comes out more like a question.

[Sollux.] It reads like a lusus reprimanding it’s charge. [You know thIIs IIsn’t home. You should not have come here.]

You find yourself tripping over your words as they suddenly come falling out of your mouth in a nervous rush. “What? No, I was just - I was curious, I felt something down here, and it was _you_ _,_ I didn’t even think you were real -”

For the first time, there’s a shift in his expression; painfully stiff and unpracticed, but you swear you see something along the lines of regret in his eyes.

[You should not have come here,] He repeats. [You need to leave, Sollux, and you must promIIse you wIIll not try to seek thIIs place out agaIIn once you have left.]

“What are you _talking about?”_ You’re a little frustrated in your confusion, a hint of desperation to your voice. “I just got here, I have - I have so many _questions,_ about your history, about, about _us,_ about the helm, how can I just leave _now_ -”

[Son, the answers II could provIIde would not gIIve you any sense of contentment. SearchIIng out the answers to these questIIons wIIll only brIIng you further IInto mIIsery.]

Your voice cracks. _“Please-”_ _ ii don’t want two be alone. _

Before you can say any more, you feel the thrum of energy underfoot grow more intense, the world around you beginning to shake. Flashes of red and blue skip rapidly across the screens as they shimmy loose from their mounts, a few crashing to the ground. All you can focus on is your ancestor’s sad, sad eyes amid the quake.

[II’m sorry. But IIf II can’t prevent you from havIIng two bear the brunt of thII2 bloodlIIne’s curse, then II can at least prevent you from doomIIng yourself.]

_“Wait-!”_

[Goodbye, Sollux.]

You fall.

And you keep falling.

And you keep falling, until you find yourself falling out of your lounging slab onto the floor with _thud,_ tangled in blankets and popping off sparks at the horns. 

You toss the blankets off and shoot up with a gasp. It takes you a second to recognize that you are in your hive, in your own block. There’s an immediate knock on the door that makes you jump, and Karkat pokes his fluffy-haired little head in with an equally disgruntled and worried look on his face. 

“Hey, I just heard something fall. Are you okay?”

You blink several times and rub your eyes. “I…” You take a deep breath. Your hands are shaking. “Yeah. Sorry. Just a daymare again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everybody who helped me proofread this and gave me encouragement, I'm really happy with how this turned out! Working on this zine has been a blast and I'm so proud of every single person who worked on it with me. 
> 
> Special thanks to Cokito and Teeny for these beautiful pieces of artwork <3 
> 
> You can find the download for the zine [here](https://twitter.com/ihm_sollux_zine). It's completely free, though please consider donating to [Project Girl Code](https://www.projectgirlcode.org/) or [The Bee Conservancy](https://thebeeconservancy.org/) in it's stead!


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